


Operation Acorn

by The Hag (hagsrus)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hagsrus/pseuds/The%20Hag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Tea and Swiss Roll Obbo 206: prompts Indifference, Collapse, and a picture of acorns and a fallen leaf</p>
<p>September 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Acorn

Twenty times round the large duck pond was their routine in good weather, a stop at the drinking fountain, then a blissful collapse in the shade of an old oak set well back from the path.

Bodie snatched at a falling leaf, golden brown, prematurely abandoning its verdant canopy.

"That's good luck," Doyle said. "Or a wish, depending."

Wish or good luck, Bodie thought. Fat chance of either bringing what he really wanted. "Wish we'd got some beer. I suppose you've remembered not to bring it again."

"Try round the back." Doyle sprawled on the dry grass, hands tucked behind his head. 

"What back?" Bodie sat leaning against the massive gnarled trunk, crumpling the leaf in his hand. An acorn bounced to earth beside him.

"Tree." Another acorn landed in the tousled mass of Doyle's hair. He squinted up into the leaves which conspired with the grass and his green tee-shirt to enhance the colour of his eyes. "Bombs away!" He plucked the acorn from its nest and studied it appraisingly. "Bit phallic, eh?"

"What isn't." Bodie thought it barely possible that Doyle had arranged a stash of beer in advance during one of his solitary runs, but the cunning sod was never averse to a raucous cackle at Bodie's expense.

Intermittent bird sounds. Breeze stirring the leaves. Kids yelling somewhere in the offing but invisible. Traffic was out of earshot but a plane droned high above, trailing white.

As good as it got, Bodie thought. Well, almost. Beer would make it perfect.

Beer and Doyle.

Phallic acorns? On a longish hook. But the image once conjured had staying power. 

He glanced over at his partner who had fallen into a doze, lean body wonderfully relaxed, lips slightly parted, acorn resting in his long fingers. Was there a hint of tumescence beneath the loose tracksuit bottoms? His balls tightened at the idea.

Beer and Doyle and...

Such dangerous speculations he usually smothered aborning, but he retrieved the first acorn and ran his thumb over its rough cap and smooth surface, closing his eyes for just one drowsy second, and just another, and another, ambushed by a fantasy of reaching over to unfasten, to slide a hand beneath encumbering cloth and release Doyle's cock to the sweet autumn air, to the caress of hand, mouth; a variation on a familiar theme of time and place that had strummed its perilous notes through his libido since the first sight of him years ago.

All his resolutions to stick to the straight and narrow had been undermined at that instant, though his deeply embedded self-protective discipline had seen him through, resolutely turning away from those moments when it almost seemed that Doyle's green eyes hinted at a reciprocal interest. Moments more frequent of late.

But he knew the crafty old toad and his wind-ups -- one step over the line of apparent indifference would sink Bodie forever.

Better stop now. Shake off this lascivious somnolence before the swelling of his groin became too obvious. If Doyle woke up --

"Oi!"

Too late. He forced his eyes open at the very moment Doyle lobbed the acorn he'd been holding, bouncing it off his nose and onto his treacherously revealing crotch. "Get done for public indecency in a minute, mate."

"Yeah, well..." Bodie fumbled for some glib explanation. "Sandra... Been nearly a week..."

Then he noticed that the hint of tumescence beneath Doyle's tracksuit was now rather more than that.

Doyle followed his gaze and grinned knowingly, then scrambled up, jerking his head in warning at a gaggle of small boys pursuing a battered football along the path. "Come and help with the beer."

A trifle unsteady, Bodie followed him behind the oak, where he was pulling aside a little thicket of vegetation to reveal a hollow in the roots, from which two cans of Bodie's favourite brown ale gleamed a welcome.

"You never," he said weakly.

"You'd be surprised, sunshine." Doyle straightened up, and they were standing very close. His eyes stared into Bodie's. "Not supposed to do this -- have this -- in the park, so -- "

Their fingers brushed as Bodie claimed his can, and they pulled the opening rings without looking away from each other. They touched the cans together, then tipped back their heads to drink.

Another acorn fell, ricocheting off Bodie's head to make a tiny clank against his beer can.

"Even the tree fancies you," Doyle said softly. "Your choice."

"Public indecency..."

"Yeah." Doyle rapped a reproving knuckle against the rough bark. "Watch it, or they'll be felling you and hauling you off to the magistrates." He drank again, and Bodie thought of laying his lips against that revealed throat, tongue relishing the change from late afternoon beard bristle to smoothness, seeking the strong pulse...

Seeking Doyle's heart.

"Ray -- "

Again their eyes locked.

Doyle said: "Private indecency, that's something else."

Bodie sucked in a deep breath and took a chance. "My flat's closer."

"Got some more beer there?"

"Plenty." Hope rose. "Grub too. Anything you want except granola."

"Won't be making you late for Sandra, will it?"

Bodie grinned, cautious confidence surging. "Never heard of her."

"Good. Race you, then." Doyle sprinted away, tossing his empty can with perfect precision into a waste basket. Bodie joyfully followed suit, pausing only for a moment to grab another falling leaf. Wish or luck, he thought that he could probably use all he could get.


End file.
